


Serenata Immortale

by OkamiNoYume



Category: Anita Blake: Vampire Hunter - Laurell K. Hamilton
Genre: Bromance, Classical Music, Eventual Romance, F/M, Failed NANO 2013, Fix-It, Gen, M/M, Shipping, Slice of Life, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Some Humor, dubstep - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-02
Updated: 2015-03-02
Packaged: 2018-03-15 23:48:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3466604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OkamiNoYume/pseuds/OkamiNoYume
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sad, bitter, and lonely in St. Louis, Asher finds an unexpected friend in a beautiful musician...and perhaps something more. Though he may have found a kindred soul to ease his loneliness, with the help of friends new and old could he find the courage to love again? A story told in four multi chapter movements. Asher/OFC.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Obligatory Disclaimer:** I claim no ownership for the characters in this fanfiction except the ones that are my own creation. All recognizable characters herein are the property of Laurell K. Hamilton. I make no money from this fanfiction. Takes place circa....maaaaybe Cerulean Sins? I dunno. That's the point where I stopped reading...

 

 

 

 

**First Movement: Chapter I: Lamentoso**

 

 

 

Ensconced in darkness as he always was, Asher silently watched over Danse Macabre, listening to a brooding singer's haunted wailing from the oversized speakers. _I am the son and the heir of a shyness that is criminally vulgar_...

 

The ancient, blonde vampire smirked to himself humorlessly. Those lyrics were strangely apropos, summing his entire sordid existence up in a nutshell.  _ There's a club if you'd like to go you could meet somebody who really loves you... _ Ahhh. Such a sentiment may have been true for the dancing, writhing crush of humanity below him, but for him, not so much. However, once upon a time...he mentally trailed off, leaving the thought unfinished. _ I am human and I need to be loved, just like everybody else does. _ ..While Asher may not have been a human for a very long time, the simple line rang with a universal truth. Everyone needed to be loved,  _ non _ ? Even the undead. Although who could ever love him in all his hideousness? 

 

The club was almost like some kind of living thing, with its flashing lights, loud thumping industrial music, and dancing, twisting bodies, all charged with sexual energy, alcohol, and most likely some illegal street drugs like LSD and Ecstasy. He recalled the seedy opium dens in a Paris of centuries past where bright eyed poets and half mad artists and musicians would linger and spout their revolutionary ideas in a feverish, delirious haze. Mortals were still as hedonistic as they ever were; little enough had changed about humanity in that regard. It was, of course, on his part, not a criticism nor a judgment; since after all, weren't vampires largely creatures of hedonism in and of themselves? It was merely a simple observation.

 

 

 

 

He closed his eyes to breathe in the scents, the tang of sweat, booze and promises of one night stands to come, followed by hangovers and regret come the morning after. Alas, he would not be among those to take a lover into his arms that night for a single glorious liaison as he had so many times in the past, all those long years ago, when he could have had nearly any lover he could have wanted, male or female. Now, he was nothing more than a mere shadow of the man he'd once been.

 

He could have used vampire mind tricks to bespell some pretty young thing from the crowd and spirited her (or him, if a male caught his fancy) away into some secluded area, but he far preferred that his lovers come willingly to his bed, rather than be hypnotized or coerced. Besides, such tactics were uncomfortably close to rape for his tastes. And also, such things were illegal and would have at the very least gotten him jail time, or worse an order of execution. As loathsome and wretched as he found his existence, he had no desire for a gruesome, painful death at the hands of Anita Blake. He knew that though she cared for him, she wouldn't hesitate to carry out her job, even if it was him or Jean-Claude at the end of her gun.

 

With that grim thought in mind, his gaze turned idly to the current DJ in the club. She was a pixie that couldn't have been over five feet tall. He took note of her attire. She wore a large loose band t-shirt, a pair of black jeans that had a tear in the right knee, along with a pair of rather large black combat boots completing her ensemble. Her hair was dyed various shades of electric and neon blue, and she wore a pair of gaudy purple shades. To him, she looked, in a word, ridiculous, but she appeared to be enjoying herself. If he recalled correctly, Jean-Claude had hired her on just recently. She was one of Richard's wolves. The current song ended, and another started up. This one had a fast, electronic beat with a voice singing _I want to know how to survive in the night life, the truth and dare of the drug from the baseline, the desire that the voodoo gives to a weak mind, I want to know how to survive in the night life._ The seizure inducing (for a mortal, at least) multicolored strobe lights pulsed in time with the beat. As if unable to contain her excitement any longer, she cupped her hands up to the sides of her mouth and let out a loud scream. “WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

The club's patrons responded enthusiastically in kind, letting out a series of cheers, whoops, and whistles as the DJ punched the air in triumph. Their cries nearly drowned out the music, and Asher winced slightly, the sound almost deafening to his sensitive preternatural hearing.

 

 

As the music thrummed loudly from the speakers, he watched Jason's performance, wearing nothing but a pair of silk underwear and a cape of matching color. He gyrated his hips and smiled lasciviously as the hands of eager club patrons reached for him, some with bills in their hands, all of them female. Jason, so young, so handsome, so perfect. There were other strippers performing tonight of course, but Jason was a favorite among the ladies. He did not have to hide from the world in shame, and Asher thought that he took that fact for granted. Unconsciously, his right hand reached up to touch the rough, scarred side of his face. Every night he awoke was nothing more than a cruel reminder of everything he'd lost. Jason's wanton display only served to rub salt into those old wounds.

 

A stab of bitter envy pierced Asher's heart, and he sneered. There wasn't anything more to do here-all of the club's finances and bills had been seen to and the club's liquor license had been renewed, leaving him little else to do other than brood. The air felt suddenly hot and stifling. He decided that it was time for a smoke break and a chance to clear his head. As silently as a ghost, Asher slipped out of the club's back entrance that was reserved for staff virtually unnoticed as a woman's haunting contralto sang  _ Dead is the new alive, despair's the new survival, a  _ _pointless point of view g_ _ ive in, give in, give in, give in, you play the game you'll never win...  _ Ruefully, he reflected that he'd certainly had ample time to perfect his stealth skills over the last three centuries.  _ What is a day without a blessed night? And what is peace without a blessed fight?  _ Even as he closed the door, the strains of the loud, thumping industrial style music still reached his heightened hearing.

 

Making sure there weren't any entwined lovers-vampire or otherwise, seeking privacy in the back alleyway and seeing that it was mercifully empty, he flew up to the roof of the club, pulled out a cigarette, and lit up. He took a long drag and held the smoke in his lungs, savoring its acrid tang. Being an immortal creature of the night, he was grateful that he didn't have to worry about such things as lung cancer or emphysema. He could indulge in as many cigarettes as he wished without suffering the consequences. Immortality did have its upsides, even if some of them were rather minor in comparison to others.

 

 

Seeing that it was around two am in the morning, traffic was sparse on the River Front, barring those going out to the clubs looking for a good time. Although tourist season was over for the year, Jean-Claude's businesses certainly had no trouble attracting customers hoping to get a glimpse of a vampire or rub shoulders with a lycanthrope so that they had an exciting story to tell their friends to make them jealous.

 

Of course, Asher had no desire to be part of any of the attractions, and Jean-Claude respected that, even though he told Asher that he was still beautiful, and would appear deeply saddened when the blonde vampire didn't seem like he quite believed him, no matter how many times he heard it and how sincerely the words were spoken. He wasn't even sure Anita truly loved him, even though she told him that she did. He felt like he was little more than part of the scenery to her, and that hurt him. How could she love a thing as repulsive as him when she had Jean-Claude, who would have been flawless in his beauty, were it not for the the whip scars on his back and the crucifix scar marring his chest? Asher felt his heart constricting painfully as he recalled the times he'd traced his fingers and his tongue over those silvery marks, and made Jean-Claude shudder and gasp. Even with the scars, Jean-Claude was still among the most beautiful of their kind there ever was. Still lost in memory, Asher recalled the far bygone days when the pair of them would turn heads when they entered a room, garnering gasps of wonder and admiration from both mortal and immortal alike.

 

Asher always took great pains to stay out of the public eye entirely, greatly preferring to work behind the scenes in aiding Jean-Claude with whatever was needed. He was basically a glorified paper pusher, but at least it gave him something to do. Jean-Claude had no need to pay him, for Asher was tremendously wealthy, having vast stores of money hidden in various international banks. Jean-Claude had offered to take him on as a business partner, but Asher had politely declined. Perhaps he would consider it in the future.

 

At the very least, his existence was made considerably more tolerable by the fact that he and Jean-Claude had mended their relationship. They were once again friends, but Asher wasn't sure they could be lovers ever again. Their past together was (very) long, complicated and....painful. Once, they had both believed that their love could never be broken. They had been the best of friends and lovers, with Julianna as the bridge between them. They'd both equally loved and cherished her. Asher felt a hollow ache in his heart, an empty place where she had once been, but no one else had ever resided in. It was a place reserved for her and her alone, and not even Jean-Claude or Anita would ever be able to touch it.

 

Julianna. His precious Julianna. What Asher wouldn't have given to have her back. He remembered how he'd hated Jean-Claude for forcing him to live as a hideous monster rather than join his beloved in the after life. For as deeply as he'd loved Jean-Claude, Julianna had been his soulmate, in every sense of the word. He knew that she would have wept at seeing his shining beauty forever destroyed, but he knew that she would draw him into her arms and cover him with kisses, whispering fervent and loving assurances that she would never leave him or turn him away.

 

Could he have ever hoped to know such love again? Asher did not think so, and mused that he should be content with what he got; Jean-Claude's friendship and Anita's occasional interest. It was the best he could have hoped for, he supposed. It was far better than what he'd had back home in the Council, where taking him into one's bed was considered a punishment. Too often, he'd seen looks of horror, revulsion, and disgust in his partner's faces during the most intimate of moments. Never again would a lover look on him with the same admiration or adoration they once had. Even Jean-Claude could not keep the guilt and sorrow from flickering in his eyes when he looked at him. That was even worse than the repulsed looks he'd grown so accustomed to. At least their reactions were honest ones. And besides, to love another woman or man the way he'd loved Julianna would have felt like a betrayal to her memory. 

 

He harbored a vain hope that should he ever experience the True Death that perhaps he'd see her in heaven. Although he wasn't sure that God would allow vampires into paradise. Surely Julianna had been granted entry and become an angel amongst His heavenly host. He couldn't bear the thought of his beloved being condemned to hell for the crime of loving him and Jean-Claude. More likely, he would be condemned to hell. Although he thought rather grimly that hell couldn't have been much worse than what his life had been like up until a few years ago, when a tiny sliver of light had finally entered his life, (well, “life” was a relative term) making rising from his coffin nightly worthwhile once again. Or at the very least...more bearable, if not happy. He hadn't known true happiness since Julianna had perished at the hands of the fanatics of the very church she'd once worshiped and held so dear.

 

Seeing that his cigarette was nearing its end, Asher dropped the butt and ground it out thoroughly beneath his heel. After all, it wouldn't do to accidentally burn the club down with so many people inside.

 

Asher debated another cigarette, but decided against it. He lamented that the harsh artificial glow of the white street lights drowned out the natural light of the stars. He remembered a time when they had been far more visible, before the advent of electricity and street lamps operated on gas, creating a far more gentle and atmospheric glow that was more conducive to clandestine interludes. He'd always liked stars, and he also remembered teaching Julianna about the various constellations, her eyes lit up with wonder as over time he'd brought her into his world, and she'd taken his hand and stepped forever out of her old one without a backwards glance.

 

The blonde vampire shook his head as if to shake loose his unhappy thoughts. If he continued down that particular road, it wouldn't lead to anywhere but heartache. Perhaps a walk would do him good, give him a chance to clear his mind. It wasn't as if he had anything better to do; all of the more pressing matters had been taken care of earlier in the week, leaving Asher with some extra free time on his hands that he wasn't entirely sure what to do with. So, a walk seemed as good and viable an option as any. If there was one thing being immortal granted, it was infinite time to do whatever you wished. Some vampires adapted and embraced it while others went mad. On more than a few occasions during his long life, Asher had watched as vampires unable to cope with the prospect of eternity had ended up tragically cracking under the strain. They didn't tend to usually last long. They would either kill themselves, or Belle Morte ordered them executed. Although she'd been a cruel mistress, she at least had shown some degree of mercy in that regard, although Asher knew it was practicality more than compassion that moved her to such actions. After all, a mentally unstable vampire tended to be an extremely dangerous vampire. If it couldn't be controlled, then there was no other choice but to destroy it.

 

Shoving aside his unpleasant thoughts once again, Asher stepped off of the edge of the building and alighted effortlessly in front of the club. He made sure to subtly influence those around him to not take note of his presence and sudden appearance; it was a simple enough trick to pull off, since there were only a few late night pedestrians and some young people waiting to enter the club. Human minds tended to be astonishingly malleable. He wasn't precisely invisible, but any mortal eyes would slip over him and then almost immediately forget they saw him.

 

Feeling in a rare whimsical mood, Asher made his way to a four way street and stopped, debating, wondering which direction he would take during this little adventure. He mentally flipped a coin and picked a random street to walk down, having no idea where it would take him.

 

 

 

*Lyrics of the first song is How Soon Is Now by Love Spit Love. Original by The Smiths.

*Lyrics in story for the second song is Nightlife IAMX.

*Lyrics for the third song is Dead Is The New Alive by Emilie Autumn

 

Notes: **Lamentoso:** “with lamentation”; to play with heavy pain or remorse. Mournful.

 

 **Author's Note:** So yeah, this is an idea I've had rolling around in my brain for a long while. I have a pretty good idea where it's going. I figured I might as well post what I have. Asher needs more love. This will be somewhat different from the usual AB fics out there. I'm writing this as an experiment to see if I can salvage some of the characters out of the unfortunate trainwreck this series has turned into. I hear through the grapevine that it just gets worse from the point where I gave up the books, and I heard that poor Asher got especially egregious treatment. So...I guess you can call this a "fix it" fic. Hope you like it, comments are awesome, kudos is nice and all that jazz. I'm a little nervous to post this, hence my stupid rambling here because this fic is my baby. My secret unholy lovechild conceived on a regrettable drunken bender baby. So. That will be all. Peace out, everybody. <3

 

 

 

 

 


	2. First Movement: Chapter II: Misterioso

 

For a good hour, Asher continued to wander the city streets. He walked along the River Front, then explored the back alleys; nothing there to see but a handful of junkies and the odd prostitute. He recalled the days he would hunt and prowl amongst the shadows, sometimes leaving drained bodies in his wake for others to find the next morning. After he'd become scarred, he'd become reckless and uncaring as to his fate. He almost hoped that some enterprising vampire hunter would try and put a stake through his heart and take his head. Only two had tried, and both had met rather gruesome deaths at his hands as a result. Leaving his victims to be discovered in the light of dawn had been a dare, a taunt to them to come find him and end him. He would have welcomed true death with open arms at that time, since he had nothing left to lose. Everything he'd ever held dear had been taken away from him and torn asunder.

 

He felt a stab of remorse. If Anita or even Jean-Claude were made aware of his past actions, he was sure that they would be appalled. At least Anita would be, he was certain. He truly had become a monster during those long, dark, bleak years. He figured that his actions should mirror the twisted horror that he'd become. Well, Jean-Claude was aware of at least some of the things he'd done, but not all of them. However, Jean was far more forgiving. Anita, he knew, not so much. She was unbending in her morality, though Asher wondered at how with all she'd seen of their world how she could still be so terribly naïve. Perhaps it wasn't so much naivete as it was stubbornness that she clung so fiercely to her precious morals, determined to not become one of the so-called “monsters.” Asher himself was a living testament to how truly barbaric humans could be, doing worse than any but the most depraved of his kind would ever be capable of.

 

Asher's wandering eventually led him to a quiet residential neighborhood lined with two story houses of moderate size. Shrugging, he made his way down the darkened street, since he was pretty sure that everyone here would be abed sleeping, and no one was likely to pop out and see him while taking out their trash or walking their dog. He enjoyed the silence that permeated this time of night. The daylight may have belonged to the mortals, but the night was his kind's domain, and always would be, for the night held its own wonders and mysteries that were hidden from the eyes of fearful humans. It was then that he recalled a line from Shakespeare's classic Romeo and Juliet. _And all the world shall be in love with night, and pay no worship to the garish sun._ He chuckled slightly, thinking that perhaps the famous Bard would have made a good vampire.

 

However, as he continued to walk, a single window on the second story of one of the houses caught his eye. The light was on, and it appeared that someone else was awake after all. His curiosity getting the better of him, he gravitated towards it like the proverbial moth to a flame, only this particular “flame” didn't pose a risk of burning him to a cinder. He saw that the window was open, most likely to let in the cool air of the early autumn night. It was then that he heard it. Music, penetrating the nighttime silence. The strains of violin music, to be precise. He cocked his head and focused on the sound, wondering if someone was up listening to a recording or....no, no, that wasn't it he realized as he drew closer and the sound grew steadily louder. Someone was playing what he recognized were scale exercises. So, it wasn't quite music in the strictest sense. Ah, so they were practicing, and he'd caught them at the beginning of their session. When the warm up scales were finished, they then began playing in earnest.

 

The tune was a slow and melancholy one that tugged on the heartstrings. Whoever was playing clearly had a great deal of ability. Being the music aficionado he was, Asher had always found it a pleasure to listen to a skilled musician play. Judging from the music, this person had clearly spent many years dedicated to his or her craft.

 

Asher found himself rooted to his spot beneath the fluorescent lamp across the street from the house, mesmerized, not bothering to conceal himself. He closed his eyes and simply allowed his mind to wander. He recognized the piece. It was Rachmaninoff's _Vocalise_. It was pensive and sorrowful, filled with a quiet longing. Asher only opened his eyes when the it was finished. There was a pause, and Asher wondered if perhaps they were deciding what to play next. He stood stock still, listening intently for what they would choose next.

 

He didn't have to wait long as another song began, this one more upbeat than the previous piece. He immediately recognized that it was a waltz, played slowly at first, but the tempo increased on the second refrain as the mystery violinist hit their stride. The melody was a fairly simple one, but pleasant to the ears nonetheless. This one had the feel of a song that had likely been played many times before. Unconsciously, Asher found himself bobbing his head slightly in time with each downbeat as visions of men in elegant suits and women in fine silk and brocade dresses danced through his mind across shining marble floors with a live orchestra, recalling old memories of his far happier days when he had been beautiful and....whole. When he'd first began courting Julianna in a bid to win her heart. He felt a bittersweet ache pierce his own heart at that moment. Memories of when he would perch himself outside of her window on the railing of her balcony to serenade her with the sweet strains of his Stradivarius flooded him. Oh, how she had loved his playing, always smiling and clapping in approval and asking for more. And of course, him being more than happy to oblige her. Jean-Claude, in seeming exasperation had called him a lovesick fool, but Asher did not miss the gleam of affection mixed with amusement in his deep sapphire eyes.

 

The waltz ended, and Asher was snapped back to the present. He felt that his walk had led him to an impromptu concert of sorts, even if the performer wasn't even aware of his presence, although he didn't exactly mind. Were it not for Jean-Claude's cajoling, Asher would not attend operas or concerts at all. His old friend did his best to get Asher out and about, although Asher wasn't sure he'd ever be entirely comfortable in public ever again, since people gawking at his ugliness would be more than he could bear. Never mind the dismayed gasps and whispers that so often followed when people got a good look at him.

 

The next song to start up was a movement that was played in an allegretto style, opening with a series of staccato notes. He didn't quite recognize it, and assumed that perhaps it was a more modern piece. He found that he quite liked it. It was stately and graceful, yet at the same time light and airy. He wondered what the violinist would be like playing at faster tempos.

 

After the person was finished, no more music came, and Asher noted that the hour had grown rather late. Dawn was nearly two hours away, and he really should be returning to the Circus or else Jean-Claude in all likelihood would organize his various minions into a search party to scour the city for him. Asher was touched by Jean-Claude's deep concern for him, yet a little annoyed at the thought that Jean-Claude couldn't trust Asher to handle himself. After all, one did not survive as long as he had by being careless and stupid, his period as a borderline suicidal, grief stricken death seeker notwithstanding. However, Asher did acknowledge that his temper often got the better of him. He remembered how Julianna's gentle influence had softened his rougher edges. He believed that all the good he'd had in him had perished along with her, leaving behind a mere shell of a man. He didn't think he'd experience the bliss and untold happiness that true love brought ever again.

When Asher saw that a shadow moved within the upstairs room, his reverie was broken and he stood to the spot in curiosity, hoping to perhaps catch a glimpse of the violinist whose playing had so intrigued him. A svelte, shapely feminine figure presented itself to him. From what he could judge of her features, she was quite lovely, but she was too far away to get a good look in spite of his vampiric vision being far superior to that of humans or even weres. He felt a sudden, inexplicable yearning to be nearer to her, perhaps even speak to her. But Asher knew better. He could never know her. Besides, humans didn't tend to like supernatural beings popping up out of nowhere, even if it was to compliment their skill as a musician. Such an action would almost certainly have evoked a blood curdling scream from her, followed by a call to the cops. And then, to complete his humiliation, having to have either Jean-Claude or Anita bail him out of jail and then having to explain himself. And that was the best case scenario. Worst case was well...considering how trigger-happy the police were in regards to vampires, he would rather not think about that. But....perhaps he could return tomorrow night to listen to her playing, and pretend that it was for him.

 

 _“Bonne nuit, mon ange de musique,”_ he whispered, and then with one last lingering look, took to the air as silently as a spirit, with nothing to mark his departure but a brief gust of supernatural wind.

 

**_The next evening...._ **

 

Caterina Donati undid the latch to her window and opened it to let the fall breeze into her upstairs bedroom. She loved the feel of the crisp night air and took in a deep, cleansing breath. She was glad that summer was now officially over, and she no longer had to endure St. Louis' sticky, stifling climate and that the temperatures were slowly but steadily dropping, especially at night. Autumn had always been her favorite season. Then, as was her normal routine she unlatched her case and carefully removed her violin after giving her bow a fresh swipe of rosin.

 

She then positioned her instrument beneath her chin and started her nightly scale exercises running through the majors, minors and finally the nodes with easy familiarity. A small smile tugged at her lips as she remembered how she'd winced over all her mistakes in her youth when she'd been a shaky beginner at the age of four with her very first little practice violin, which she still possessed out of sentimentality. Though her music teachers throughout the years had praised her talent and declared her a prodigy, when she hit a sour note it sounded like someone was torturing a cat in a rather brutal manner. She winced in sympathy of what her tutors eardrums had had to put up with. But now here she was, a true professional in her own right. Years of practice, hard work, and sacrifice had carried her all the way here to America, where she was now hoping to join the St. Louis Symphony Orchestra. Someday, it was her dream to be part of a string quartet, traveling and touring all over the world to the adulation and delight of audiences everywhere. She sighed wistfully at the thought.  _Someday._

 

 She decided to finish with a chromatic scale before she was satisfied that she was ready to truly begin the evening's session. She used the end of her bow to flip through her sheet music for work until she found the right piece she wanted. Giuseppe Tartini's _Devil's Trill Sonata._ It was an old favorite of hers and was known to be one of the most technically difficult pieces in the world. As she began the _Larghetto_ part of the sonata she remembered how she'd positively glowed with pride when she'd been able to master it at the age of seventeen. She'd played it during her entry exam at the Milan Conservatory. She knew it so well that she scarcely had to look at her music sheet. She couldn't resist the temptation to close her eyes and simply lose herself in the beauty of the melody. However, as she transitioned into the second movement she felt her heart ache profoundly at the thought of her home country, missing it. She had been in America for a year and a half, but still hadn't made any real friends. Her colleagues at the music hall were barely acquaintances. She felt painfully isolated and alone here.

Well, that wasn't entirely true. She did have one close friend, she supposed. There was her roommate Vickie who was a rather...colorful individual, to put it mildly. Both literally and figuratively, since the dubstep loving werewolf seemed to have a fondness for changing her hair color at least every other week. Currently it was various shades of blue. Caterina mused that she didn't think anyone knew what her natural hair color actually was. Although she was loud, brash, crass, messy and unpredictable, Vickie really did mean well and was genuinely likeable, even though her taste in music and sexual partners might have at times been...questionable. Although Caterina would have been hesitant to call dubstep “music.” To her, it only sounded like so much racket. The best comparison she could think of was that the sound was akin to a bunch of power tools and kitchen appliances that had malfunctioned catastrophically all at once. Or something to that effect.

 

A classically trained musician and a club DJ. The two of them did indeed make quite the odd couple.

 

After completing the third movement, Caterina segued into the cadenza the tempo alternating between fast and slow and then fast again. It was her favorite part, and her slender fingers deftly danced across the strings with every double stop, trill, and staccato without missing a beat. After she had bowed the final note, she opened her eyes, smiling from ear to ear, her face slightly flushed from the intensity of her playing. That would never get old. Alas, she regretted that there had been no one around to hear. However, as she glanced out the window, she gasped and took an involuntary step back, eyes wide with shock. It appeared that she'd been wrong about not having an audience after all.

 

There, underneath the street lamp, stood a single, solitary figure. It appeared to be a man that was rather tall, dressed in elegant clothes, with unearthly pale skin and waist length hair that was the color of spun gold, not simply blonde but true _gold_. It was, while beautiful to look at, too golden to be called natural. Which, Caterina quickly surmised, meant that he most likely wasn't human, since most people didn't tend to wander the street in the middle of the night. At least, not in the part of town where she lived in. And of course, Vickie wasn't most people, she mused to herself wryly as she took the party loving werewolf's nocturnal ways into consideration, which luckily didn't bother the young violinist over much, since she preferred the night as well.

She took a hesitant step towards the window, tilting her head to the side in curiosity. Could he have been....a vampire? What would a vampire, let alone one as stunning at this one, be doing in her neighborhood of all places at this time of night standing in the street? She felt an instinctive flutter of fear tighten deep in her gut, knowing very well that these creatures could be highly dangerous, all too aware of what they were capable of. Although, this vampire didn't appear to be posing any kind of threat at the moment, and she remembered that vampires could not enter a human's dwelling without a mortal's express permission.

He possessed a lonely aura that tugged at her heartstrings. Perhaps he was a fellow kindred spirit in that regard, another soul that could quietly share in her melancholia. And it was nice that _someone_ could appreciate her music. Vickie grumbled that classical music was boring and stuffy, much to Caterina's consternation. Although she was considering trying her hand at some of her own compositions, and perhaps playing more of the modern pieces that had become quite popular as of late in the mainstream. She was rather fond of some of the more neo-classical stuff.

 

Turning her thoughts back to the situation at hand, she watched as he patiently stood there, appearing expectant, as if he were waiting for her to begin her next performance. She figured that he'd most likely wandered by and heard her late night playing. And if he was sticking around, that meant that he enjoyed listening. Caterina flushed in unexpected pleasure at the realization. It was likely that he was a one of those rather old vampires and had been alive at the same time many of the masters of classical music had, perhaps even been able to bear witness to see their genius in person. Oh, the stories he must have to tell, having rubbed elbows with the greats such as Handel, Bach, Beethoven, Mozart, Chopin, and perhaps even Tartini himself!

 

Well, if he wanted to stick around, then she supposed that she would give him a show. She perused through one of her music folders in search of something that he may enjoy. Perhaps a shepherd's dance? A madrigal? Perhaps a lively galliard? She decided against all of them, and finally settled on Vivaldi's Autumn Adagio. It was appropriate, considering that St. Louis had just recently transferred from summer to fall. She set the sheet music up before her, once again positioned her violin beneath her chin, and slowly drew the bow across the strings in a somber rhythm, hoping to evoke images of autumn. The leaves changing colors and then slowly falling away from the trees as they became dormant. She poured her soul into her playing, trying to capture the quiet sadness that came with the slow dying of the world in preparation for winter's embrace, to rest and lay in torpor until winter's chill would once again would give way to spring's warmth, and everything would be reborn once again, continuing the unending cycle of the seasons. When she finished, she looked out the window, and saw the vampire applauding her in obvious approval. She bowed to him, smiling. She was glad to have impressed him so. He then made a gesture with a large, slender hand at her clearly saying _More! More!_ She was more than happy to oblige him, however she heard the familiar rumble of a motorcycle engine and saw the unmistakable glare of a single headlight illuminating the street and then her driveway, indicating that her roommate had returned home. When she heard the motorcycle engine cut off, she watched as her roommate went to let herself into the house. When she glanced back to the street lamp, she saw that her mysterious companion had vanished. She felt an odd, inexplicable twinge of disappointment. It seemed her impromptu “concert” was over.

 

She smiled a bit ruefully to herself. Old Flavio would have scolded her for indulging such flights of fancy. Her reminiscences was broken by the front door opening and shutting downstairs, followed by the clomp of heavy combat boots. Caterina sighed. If there was one thing her friend and roommate was not, it was subtle. She was, once again glad that she lived with a fellow night owl, since the DJ tended to come home at all sorts of odd hours. And Cat didn't disturb her with her nightly practice sessions, so it was a win-win situation for both of them.

“Honey! I'm home!” she called out cheerfully.

Caterina sighed and shook her head, putting her violin and bow away and snapping the case shut as she listened to her roommate noisily rummage about the kitchen for something to eat. Vickie called up the stairs something about them needing to do some grocery shopping. She made her way downstairs, deciding on some hot tea before retiring to bed. She entered the kitchen as Vickie was happily eating some leftover pizza. She hadn't even bothered to microwave it.

“Hey, 'sup? Just finish practicing?” she asked around a mouthful.

Cat smiled at her, knowing that Vickie was a little on the uncouth side. She remembered that she had just gotten a gig at a new club. “ Yes. So, how's the new job? Do you like it?”

Vickie swallowed her bite before replying. “It's pretty awesome. I've gotten some really positive feedback, and JC says that he wants to take me on as a regular since one of his other DJs just left. He pays pretty well, too! And some of the dudes at his club aren't bad looking either! Everyone he employs is total eye candy. ” She grinned wickedly. “You should check the club out. You need to get out and socialize more. I could get you in for free. Get you a low cut blouse, some fuck me boots, some make up, and voila! You'll have guys throwing themselves at your feet. Or girls, if that's your thing.”

 

“I'm sure,” Cat said, setting some water on the stove to boil for her tea. “But I think I'll pass. The club scene really isn't my thing.”

Vickie shrugged. “Suit yourself, but it's a shame you don't show that killer bod of yours off more often.” Cat's cheeks heated a little at that. By the standards of most, she was considered beautiful, even though the stares that she garnered made her a little uncomfortable. She wanted to be known for her music, not her looks. Vickie continued to chatter happily as Cat made the occasional polite noise to indicate that she was listening and commenting little. She mixed a bit of sugar into her jasmine tea and sipped carefully, staring idly into space, thinking of that tall, mysterious vampire who'd seemed fascinated by her playing.

Vickie snapped her fingers in front of her face, startling her from her thoughts. “Hellooooo?” Cat jumped. “What?” Vickie frowned at her. “You were totally spacing out there on me, like you haven't been listening for the last ten minutes. You okay Cat?” “Oh, I'm fine. Just tired is all. I think I'll finish my tea and turn in “ she said quickly.

Vickie seemed to buy the excuse, if a bit dubiously. “Okay. See you later then. I'm gonna crash myself. I'm pretty beat. Besides, I have to be at the studio tomorrow. Gonna be dropping some sick beats.” Cat smiled at her.

“Good luck, then.”

“Thanks,” replied Vickie. “Same to you about your audition for the orchestra next week. I know you'll kill it.”

“I appreciate the vote of confidence,” said Cat. She had been practicing for weeks, familiarizing herself with the piece she was set to play to the point where she could very nearly play it in her sleep. Nonetheless, she felt her stomach tense in nervousness. In the back of her mind she made a note to keep an eye on the street from now on, in the hopes of perhaps catching a glimpse of her enigmatic, golden-haired companion,  that perhaps, he would return to listen to her play for him. 

 

 

**Notes:**

**Misterioso:** an indication to play “mysteriously”; to play with an enigmatic, reserved quality.

 **Allegretto:** to play at a moderately fast tempo

 **Staccato:** musical notes played in a detached manner

 

 _Bonne nuit, mon ange de musique:_   French for “Goodnight, my angel of music.”


End file.
